


Blossoms Borne by the Human Tree

by kittenmittens



Category: Trigun
Genre: Alien Lactation, Discussion of Abortion, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Vash, Plant Reproduction, Wolfwood's in denial, idek how else to phrase it lmao, parthenogenesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-05-04 18:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14598744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmittens/pseuds/kittenmittens
Summary: Vash's body is all too aware that his biological clock is ticking. Meanwhile, Wolfwood isn't aware of his own feelings and, frankly, doesn't want to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so, I've been wanting to write this fic for liiiiike............ three years or something ridiculous? at least ?? thanks to my partner in crime for helping me plot it out at long last. Anyway, this will borrow some elements from the manga, mostly for plot purposes, but stick to the anime canon. (So you aren't missing anything if you haven't read the manga and who the hell cares, anyway, how canon can an mpreg fic POSSIBLY be in most things? haha anyway NJOI)

“What… happened?”

When Wolfwood finally comes to and starts talking, his voice sounds like he swallowed half the desert. But as long as he’s talking at all, Vash is gonna call that an improvement. “Wolfwood!” Crouching over the other man, Vash watches as he slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position. Wolfwood blinks hazily a few times, then Vash sees his eyes bug out in alarm. Gasping, Wolfwood gawks down at himself, pawing stupidly at his middle.

“What—Where’s the—“ Wolfwood pries a hand down the front of his shirt, feeling at the skin. For a few seconds, he keeps it up, fingers running over what Vash can only guess is all the new scar tissue, right where his wound used to be. “I was… N-Needleno— _Vash_. Vash, I was _bleeding to death._ I blacked out, saw the pearly gates and everything.” He heaves himself forward, inching over to Vash and gripping his shoulder harshly. “What the hell _happened?”_

“Yeah, heh… About that.” Vash laughs, shrugging weakly and scratching at the back of his head. “Thing is, I’m not exactly sure.”

“Are you listening to me?” Wolfwood sounds like he might start hyperventilating soon, and that can’t be good, right? He’s probably still recovering!  “I’ve got good reason to believe I just came back to _life_. In my line of work, we call that a ‘second coming’, and it’s not exactly an everyday thing.” Groping at his temple like he’s got a headache coming on, Wolfwood mumbles, “This isn’t hell, is it? I mean, you wouldn’t be there, but I never thought I’d get into heaven, either. Guess that makes it purgatory.”

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” groused Vash. Guy didn’t have a real high opinion of himself, did he? “You’re not dead, all right?”

“Not dead?” Wolfwood lifted his head to gawk at Vash. “Then what the hell happened to the goddamn hole in my chest? I know I felt it happen, so don’t try any of that, ‘it was all a dream’ crap.”

 “Hey, I know this is weird!” Vash admits. “But shouldn’t you be—I dunno—happy, or something? You’re okay now. I mean, you’re still alive! That’s good, right?”

“Good? I’m still trying to get used to not being dead, I can’t focus on how _good_ I feel right n—“ Wolfwood cuts himself off, squinting dumbly. “Wait a minute, wait—h-how long was I out? What’s with the hair?”

“Huh?” Vash furrows his brow in confusion, following Wolfwood’s finger when he points to their reflection in one of the tinted church windows. Frowning, he watches himself, then turns his head slightly, to see— “ _GAAAHH!”_ The whole back of his head’s pitch black! Pawing at his hair dumbly, he whimpers under his breath. Okay, sure, most of what he’s doing are goofy theatrics, but a part of him really is freaked out! He’s got no idea where that came from, or when it happened.

“Okay, okay. Reign it in, broom-head.” Wolfwood takes a massive breath, motioning for Vash to follow suit. “There’s something real messed up about me being the one who has to calm _you_ down in this situation.” After a few more inhales and exhales, Wolfwood clears his throat, then hesitantly gets to his feet, like he’s not sure if he’s strong enough to stay upright. Looks like he is, though, because he stays standing, and even starts fishing around in his jacket so he can pull out a crumpled cigarette.

“Really?” Vash whines. Wolfwood’s gonna undo all of Vash’s hard work, just like that?

“Put a sock in it,” grumbles Wolfwood. “I’ve earned this one. It’s been a long day.” Lighting the end, he takes a slow, deep drag, acting like it’s easier to breathe through the filter than is to breathe air. “All right. Last thing I remember, Chapel got me. Right here.” He ghosts his hand over the spot in a way that makes Vash wonder if it still hurts, or if Wolfwood’s fingers are shaking because he’s trying not to panic. “I made it back in here, fell down in front of—“ He points to the cross, then swallows loud enough for Vash to hear it when he sees the giant puddle of blood. “Right there. Passed out from blood loss. You must’ve found me at some point. When was that?”

Vash balls his hands into fists, trying not to picture any of that too clearly. “About an hour ago.”

“And I was still out?”

Vash nods. “Yeah.”

The cigarette’s already down to half its original size. Wolfwood takes it out of his mouth and shakes the ashes loose. “Then what?”

“Heh, well…” Vash smiles weakly, standing and jamming his hands into his pockets. “That part’s a little fuzzy for me, too. I’m not completely sure what happened.”

“All right,” snaps Wolfwood. “Then gimme your _best guess.”_

“Well,” Vash begins slowly, “I found you. And I wasn’t sure if you were dead yet, so I turned you over and… “ Just remembering this much is making Vash’s throat feel uncomfortably tight, but he shoves his discomfort way down into the pit of his stomach. “You were. Definitely dead, I-I mean. Then… I, uh... I’m not really sure why I did it, but I touched your wound, and it was like…” Like when he and Knives figured out to operate the ship’s power sectors way back when, or when Rem taught them to cross-breed the flowers in the conservatory. It wasn’t like he was learning how to do it, it was more like he was remembering something he already knew. “Instinct, I guess. Somehow, I could close it. And fix you up. I think… “ He glances back at his reflection and grimaces. Man, that hair looks so _tacky!_ But he gestures to the black half anyway, explaining, “I think I might’ve given you some of my life… energy?”

Is that crazy? All Vash can do is guess; it’s not like he’s done this kind of thing before. Somehow, he knew he could heal _himself_ —maybe Knives told him, maybe he just had that knowledge locked away in the back of his head, but it isn’t like he ever did it! And it isn’t like he would’ve known how it worked. It’s kind of embarrassing, how little Vash knows about his own… _people_ , he guesses, but he hasn’t exactly bothered to do the research. Maybe the idea of doing that made him feel too much like his brother. “I mean, if it was some kinda energy exchange, I guess that’d explain this.” He stands and flicks Wolfwood’s bangs off his forehead, and the other man starts, stumbling back. Vash motions for Wolfwood to look over at the window and Wolfwood frowns, glancing at his reflection, too.

“Ugh, _what?”_ He touches the white-blond streak in his hair bleakly, then groans and throws his head back. “Great.”

“So.” Vash stretches a bit, then starts trying to wipe the blood stains off his coat in a way that Wolfwood won’t notice. “What now?”

“What now?” echoes Wolfwood, turning to give Vash an exhausted look. “ _Now_ , I need a damn _drink.”_

 

*

 

Vash isn’t sure he’s capable of being surprised anymore, but this?

This _did_ throw him for a loop. Knives was lying here, just a few minutes ago, cursing him out and clutching his own arm. He kept dragging himself further away each time Vash tried to get closer. At first, Vash thought it was just the suns hitting the highest point in the sky, but then he realized Knives was glowing. Glowing brighter than Vash had ever seen him, even when they’d been firing their Angel Arms at each other at full strength. He had to look away, barely making out his form becoming twisted, stretching and growing and spreading before the light started fading. And now?

Now there’s only a tree where he was.

Or maybe saying ‘ _he’s_ a tree’ would be a little more accurate. A tall tree, with narrow limbs and a sandy white trunk. It’s in full bloom, cream-colored flowers waving in the breeze, and Vash watches them move against the bright blue sky, wondering if maybe he’s gone crazy.

A part of him—and it’s a _real_ small part—is terrified. He has no idea what he just witnessed, and he isn’t sure if Knives saw it coming, either. If his brother knew this was about to happen, he seemed so scared of what was coming. Is Vash next? Is this going to happen to him, too? He doesn’t know, but the more he thinks about it, he’s not really sure he minds.

Vash is still so full of energy, enough that it feels like he should be shaking. But when he lifts an arm and calmly places his palm against the bark of the tree, his hand is still. Sighing, he listens to the wind and the rustling of leaves and closes his eyes. A long time passes—maybe it’s an hour, maybe it’s more—but Vash doesn’t fall to the ground and start growing branches. Instead, he turns on his heel and leans down to grab his bag before turning back towards town. There’s no need to say goodbye—he knows he’ll be back soon.

“Well?” Wolfwood’s halfway through a bottle of liquor by the time Vash makes it there. “Did you take care of it?” The guy looks a little irritated that Vash talked him into staying behind, but Vash definitely doesn’t regret that decision. He’s done with letting people die on his watch, and he doesn’t want to try his new party trick a second time.

Laughing emptily, Vash shrugs. “Something like that.”

The look on Wolfwood’s face gets a little harsher, and he lowers his voice. “So? What happened?”

Vash smiles. “I gotta be honest—I’m not really sure.” He reaches over and nabs Wolfwood’s glass, taking a long sip. “But I think I helped him find peace.”

“Needlenoggin,” grumbles Wolfood, “you’re one cryptic son of a bitch.”

Vash laughs again, and orders himself a drink. He and Wolfwood take a few more shots, at least until Vash himself feels kind of fuzzy-headed and warm. But he still has his wits about him when he steps out of the bar. There’s a crowd of townsfolk at the center of the city, and Vash realizes that Millie and Meryl must have gotten the well working again. He waves to them as he heads out, trying to act like he can’t see the look on Meryl’s face when he leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Meryl?” Vash knocks on the door, leaning forward to listen for any movement on the other side.

He hears tiny feet stomping around before Meryl shouts, muffled, back at him. “I’m not talking to you!”

“Well, gee—“ Vash laughs quietly, leaning against the door. “Call me crazy, but I _kinda_ feel like you answering me counts as talking.”

Meryl doesn’t respond at first, but after a few seconds of silence, Vash hears the doorknob click. He jumps aside when the door swings open, and Meryl pokes her head out, glaring up at him. “Will you knock it off, already? I’m still mad at you.”

“What? Seriously?” Vash rolls his eyes. “Pff. You’re holding a grudge over nothing! I travel all the time—I thought you were used to it.” Well, apparently not. Still. “Besides, I knew we’d run into each other again.”

“You did, huh? Well, _I_ didn’t.” Meryl sighs, crossing her arms and staring down the hall. “I thought you might’ve wandered out into the desert to _die_ or something.” Her brow furrows and she snaps, “But then I remembered how hard to kill you are, so I figured you left because you didn’t want to see me again. I mean—“ Groaning, she covers her face. “Us! See us.”

“Meryl…” Vash swallows, the guilt sinking down into the pit of his stomach and settling there. He wants to pretend like he didn’t know what he was doing, or how it’d make her feel, but he can’t—even if he tried to fake being too stupid to understand, Meryl would see through that in a heartbeat. She’s gotten to know him too well. They all have. “I guess… “ Shaking his head sadly, Vash ventures, “It just feels strange staying in one place. I’ve had Knives looking for me, plus that bounty on my head, for so many years, I keep forgetting I don’t have to… Y’know.” Shrugging, he mumbles, “Run from anything.”

“You’re such a…”  Meryl huffs, then throws her arms up in defeat. “Forget it. I’m still trying to finish up this report about the Gung-Ho guns.” She kneads at her temple with both hands. “My supervisor keeps writing me back, asking for more details, and more _witness accounts_. He thinks I’m making everything up!” Dropping her hands, she glowers up at him again. “It’s a huge pain, and I want to get it out of the way, so whatever’s bothering you, it’d better be _real_ important.”

“Y-You know what?” Vash waves his hand limply, grinning nervously. Man, he forgets how scary Meryl can be! Especially for somebody who’s barely five feet out of heels. “It’s not bothering me that much! Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, you already completely blew up my train of thought.” Meryl heaves an enormous sigh, then steps aside and gestures for Vash to step into her room. “Might as well come in.”

“Hey, thanks, Meryl!” Vash bends down to give her a hug, but Meryl holds up one hand, stopping him.

She points towards the couch, trying to get Vash to sit down. Once he obeys, she demands, “So, what’s the problem?”

“Uh… A few different things, actually.” Vash scratches at the back of his head, slumping so that he slips down the couch a few inches. He would’ve asked Wolfwood about all this, but somehow, he felt like one of the girls would know more than him. “I keep waking up really sick to my stomach, like I’m hungover, but I haven’t had a drink in months! Plus my body aches everywhere, even when I haven’t gotten in any fights, or shoot outs—and my skin feels itchy! Mostly it’s—It’s like, right around here.” He moves his hand around just over his bellybutton, frowning. When he glances up, Meryl looks unimpressed, so he hurriedly adds, “And there’s one other thing.” It’s kind of the reason Vash has been worried at all. “It’s… pretty freaky.”

“Oh?” Meryl gestures for him to continue—or maybe she’s trying to tell him to hurry up. It’s probably the second one. “Freakier than that angel arm thing?”

“Uh.” Hm. She has a point. “N-Not really, but it’s still…” It’s still strange. “There’s this green stuff coming out of my chest.” He doesn’t mean blood, either. Meryl’s seen him bleeding, too—she knows his blood is red, and that most of his body acts like a human’s would. So blood wouldn’t surprise him. But Vash has never seen a human body do this. “It’s.. “ Frowning, he stands up, starting to undo his coat. “Here, just—just look!”

“Vash!” Meryl makes a scandalized noise as he starts to pull his coat off, arms flailing before she grabs at her face and covers her eyes. “What are you _doing!?”_

“It’s nothing creepy, I swear!” Well, actually—“I mean, it _is_ weird, but don’t take it the wrong way.”

“ _Whatever_ it is, you need to go to a doctor instead of flashing m—“ Meryl peeks between her fingers as Vash peels off his undershirt. “What? You look fine.” Narrowing her eyes, she walks over to him, scrutinizing the metal grate over his old wound. “I mean, not _fine_ , but… normal. For you.”

“It’s not that side,” Vash insists. “Here. Sometimes I can kinda make it…” He presses his fingers into the skin. Sure enough, a bit of some thick, green substance squeezes out of his chest. Meryl takes one look, then screams like she’s been burned.

“ _EW!_ Vash!” She rushes to shield her face again. “ _What is that!?”_

“That’s what I’m asking you!” Vash grimaces, starting to worry for real. There are plenty of things he never knew humans did, or experienced. Ways he never knew he was different. If everybody on the planet does something, why would you bother talking about it? Everyone else already knows! But Vash doesn’t always know. He’s the same as humans are a _lot_ of ways, but not every way. When he and Knives were little, they were surprised the rest of the crew couldn’t survive for days on end drinking nothing but sugary beverages. Vash was just… _really_ hoping this was normal. Maybe a little gross, and weird, and not _common_ , but technically normal! But, judging by Meryl’s reaction, it’s not.

“Just put your shirt back on!” Meryl acts like she couldn’t turn around if she tried (at least, not until Vash covers himself), before she takes a deep breath and turns to face him like nothing happened. “That was…” Holding her chin, Meryl stares down at the floor for a moment before speaking up again. “Whatever that was, it definitely isn’t normal. For… guys.”

“For guys?” What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Meryl mumbles like she doesn’t even hear him, pacing back and forth as she trails off. “Or for… girls, actually. Mostly. Whatever that stuff is, it doesn’t look like m… ” Stopping suddenly, she makes a horrified face. “Y-You said you felt sick, right? Maybe you’re rotting from the inside, and that’s just where the _pus_ happened to come out—“

“ _Eugh!”_ Vash clamps a hand over his mouth, flinching in disgust. “You think it’s _pus?”_  Vash isn’t sure if he’s ever had a wound that bad before—at least, he never let them get that infecfted. And he’s had _real_ bad ones, sure, but they always seem to heal up just fine in the end.

“I don’t know!” Meryl walks over to him, motioning for him to lower his head so she can feel at his forehead. “Huh. Not sure, but I don’t think you have a fever. You feel okay. But you should definitely go to the doctor.”

“So this… isn’t normal? At all?” Vash swallows, then adds in a whisper, “For anyone?”

“I have no idea,” Meryl admits, then furrows her brow. “I’ve never seen it before… But maybe it is normal, for… You know.”

Vash frowns, finishing her sentence after she pauses. “Plants.”

Meryl nods absently. “There’s still so much about independent plants we don’t really understand.” She gives Vash a dry look, adding, “And, for the record, you’re part of that ‘we’.”

Laughing weakly, Vash curls into himself. “Ouch! That’s harsh.”

“But true,” counters Meryl. “Too bad there’s no such thing as a plant doctor.” Bristling, she snaps, “And don’t even _think_ about hiring that Elizabeth woman to take a look at you.”

Vash takes one look at Meryl’s expression, then cowers and lets out an extremely high-pitched laugh. “Whaaat? No! No, no, _never—_ I’d never dream of doing something like that!” Jeeze! When is Meryl going to realize all of that was just an act? “Besides—I have somebody else in mind.”

 

* * *

 

“You sure it’s a good idea?” Vash watches as Wolfwood tries to straighten out his cigarette with limited success before he lights it. “Those folks didn’t seem too happy with you the last time we saw ‘em.”

“It’ll be okay!” Vash insists. Sure, he knows it must be hard to adapt to being on the planet’s surface after living in the comfort of a ship for all your life, but it’s the end of the world. After all, Vash went through that exact same thing when he was a kid. “Those people are some of my oldest friends. They aren’t the type to hold a grudge.” Vash has turned to them for help under much worse circumstances.

“All right.” Wolfwood pauses to take a long drag, then mumbles, “If you’re serious about this, I wanna come.”

“Really?” Vash can’t help but light up. It’s been so long since he and Wolfwood got to do anything together. The last time he left, Wolfwood stayed put. Maybe Vash should have, too—then Meryl wouldn’t be so mad at him.

“Don’t give me that look.” Wolfwood snorts. “This isn’t some stupid camping trip. You’re gonna see that professor guy, right?” Vash nods and Wolfwood points at his hair. “Good. I wanna find out what the hell it is you did to me.”

“Hey, it doesn’t look that bad,” Vash insists. “If it’s really bugging you, just dye it.”

“It’s not about the hair, dumbass!” Poking him sharply in the chest, Wolfwood explains, “I can’t sleep through the night anymore! I’m so full of energy I feel like I’m _wired_ , and I crave sugar _constantly.”_ He paws at his face with a groan. “At first, I figured I was just being paranoid, but even Millie’s started to notice. I get up five times a night just to stretch my legs.”

For a moment, Vash doesn’t get it (why would Millie know about that?), but then he remembers. Ever since they got back to town after the… _Knives_ incident, Wolfwood and Millie have been together. All the time! They’re only apart when Wolfwood’s taking odd jobs, and Millie’s working with Meryl. It makes Vash sad, in a way—he feels like this romance popped up out of nowhere! Everybody else keeps changing so fast, and Vash feels like he’s been left in the dust. “Well,” he says at last, “if you’re sure Millie won’t cry every night over how much she misses you, then you’re welcome to come.”

“Right,” mutters Wolfwood. “Like you’ve never made a girl cry.”

Vash cups his chin, giving Wolfwood the most seductive look he can muster. “Only because of my otherworldly _beauty.”_

Wolfwood just stares at him for a second, then blows a mouthful of smoke in his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that these chapters are a bit shorter than my usual M.O.-- not sure if they're going to get longer, but we'll at least be to the actual plot soon enough lol.


	3. Chapter 3

“You know, it’s funny,” Vash muses, hiking his bag up a little higher. Sure, it’s heavy, but he feels completely naked if he leaves town without it. Besides, Vash still feels pretty fresh, despite the fact that they’ve been walking almost all day. “Something about this feels… off.”

“Yeah?” Wolfwood grumbles. “How so?”

“Shouldn’t we have started off with me finding you on the side of the road, dying of thirst?” Chuckling, Vash elbows Wolfwood teasingly, then grins when the other man just sidles away from him. “Guess city life really helped get your act together.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it, and you know it.” Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Wolfwood lights it in the grumpiest way possible. “I haven’t had a drink in three days and I feel great. And I’m talking about _water_ , Needlenoggin. Not booze. I mean—hell, not _either._ Haven’t been thirsty at all. I don’t think I’ve even broken a sweat.”

“Are you seriously complaining about that?” Vash throws his head back and groans. “It’s like I did you this huge favor, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“That wasn’t a favor!” Jabbing him in the chest harshly (which hurts a lot more than it should), Wolfwood waits until Vash starts looking at him before he goes on. “That was some weird, plant voodoo bullshit, and you didn’t even plan it! For all I know, all these are signs that my body’s about to give out on me.” Tearing the cigarette out of his mouth, Wolfwood tosses it aside and coughs weakly into his hand. “Can’t even have a smoke anymore. It’s like back when I first started.”

Like his lungs are brand new. At least, that’s Vash’s guess. He knows he must have changed Wolfwood’s body to repair it, but has no idea how much of it is different, or fixed up. Either way, there’s a good chance he isn’t used to all that tobacco anymore. “So, are you finally gonna quit?”

“Hell no.” It’s like he forgot what happened ten seconds ago—Wolfwood’s already got another cigarette between his lips. He just holds it there for a second this time, not lighting it right away. “Look. I don’t give a damn about any of this, as long as it isn’t turning me into some kind of monster.” Wolfwood’s voice sounds strained when he says the last bit. Honestly, it makes Vash’s heart squeeze into some tight, knotted little thing. “I _died_ thinking I’d never see her again. I… I just want to get this over with so I can go back.”

“I know.” Okay, Vash officially feels terrible. Lately, he feels like he keeps making all these mistakes, without knowing he’s made them until they turn around to bite him in the ass. The worst part is, they all seem to have something to do with Wolfwood. Gritting his teeth together, Vash picks up the pace, pointing out over the horizon. “Farneel’s about ten iles that way. We can stop for the night, and after that, I know a cab driver there who can take us out east.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds great. I can’t wait to be packed into the back of a metal death-trap with some sweaty creep driving us waaaay out into the desert.” It’s weird—normally, after walking all day, Wolfwood would sound winded. But today, he brushes past Vash like they just started out. Maybe he hasn’t been exaggerating his side-effects as much as Vash thought. Still, only Wolfwood would find a way to complain about gaining superhuman abilities. “You better chip in for a motel.”

The suns are starting to set as they get into town, and Vash can’t help noticing how much more crowded it is than usual. This place is only big enough for two inns, and the first one they try is completely booked. At least the woman at the counter of the second one seems friendly enough, ushering them in with a smile on her face when they open the door.

“You two have great timing!” She pulls out a piece of paper, tapping at it with a pen. “I’ve got one room left.” Vash walks over to her and takes the pen, signing a borderline-illegible signature before reaching into his bag to fish some money out. “You two here to stargaze?”

“Uh. No.” Wolfwood clears his throat, glancing around like a caged animal. “Why’s this place so packed, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s that time of year where that trail of stars in the north gets real bright.” The woman snatches the money out of Vash’s hand before he has time to count it, thumbing through the bills with a much harsher look on her face. “Has something to do with that old story about two lovers, separated for the whole year, except for tonight. Anyway, you can see it real good from here. Only time a year we get to use our ‘no vacancy’ sign.”

“Yeah… We’re, uh…” Vash shrugs, deciding not to ask for his change back. “Like he said: we’re not here for that.”

“Hm.” The woman sizes them up, then shrugs. “My mistake.” She passes Vash a key and settles back into her seat, gesturing to the hall behind them. “Room’s the second to last on the left. There’s gonna be an awful lot of celebrating around here, so we can’t do a whole lot about the noise. Have a good night.”

“Thanks.” Wolfwood gives Vash a look telling him to hurry up before he starts down the hall. Vash sighs and follows him, unlocking the door and looking inside. Wolfwood slaps a palm against his forehead and groans. “You gotta be kidding me.”

The room’s tiny, smells like dust and aging plaster. And, most importantly, it only has one bed. After a minute of staring—and wondering about how much money he just wasted—Vash opens his mouth to speak. Before he can, Wolfwood cuts him off.

“I’ll take the floor.”

“What?” Vash bristles. “Come on, don’t be like that! At least let me ask for a spare cot or something.”

“Are you kidding?” Scoffing, Wolfwood pushes past him into the room, leaning over to squint at a mildew stain on the wall. “Even somebody as naïve as you has to know what a _dump_ this is. They won’t have anything like that. Besides, you’re the one that’s sick.” He straightens up and gives Vash a quizzical look. “Well, _allegedly_.”

“I am sick!” Vash whines, then shakes his head. “I mean, I might be. But I still feel fine. You’re the one who’s…” Suddenly half-plant? Totally freaking out? This close to having nervous breakdown? “You know. _You_ should take the bed.”

“Too late.” Wolfwood grabs a pillow and throws it on the ground, easing down onto the floor and sprawling out on his back. “Just use it, Needlenoggin. Try taking it easy for once in your life.”

Rolling his eyes, Vash picks up the other pillow, setting it down against the opposite wall before lying across from Wolfwood. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Even if he did get on that bed, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’d just be thinking the whole time about how uncomfortable Wolfwood was. Or, is. (Or maybe about bedbugs. That bed does not look… clean _.)_ Either way, he might as well make it fair for the two of them.

Wolfwood doesn’t really react to Vash calling his bluff, and before too long, despite how rock-hard the floor feels, Vash is drifting off. Still, just before he passes out, he swears he hears Wolfwood mutter ‘idiot’ under his breath.

When he wakes up, Vash already knows he’s been sleeping for too long. He’s got that funny, foggy-headed sensation, and for a moment or two, he has no idea where he is. Then, it hits him—he’s in a motel. Wait, that’s not the weird part. Groaning, he paws at the mattress, and…

Oh. He’s on the bed. Grimacing, he sits up and slides off the mattress, getting to his feet so he can stretch. He must’ve started sleep-walking, and gotten onto the mattress. Knowing Wolfwood, he’s probably going to give Vash hell about it. Except, when Vash glances around, Wolfwood isn’t in the room. His stuff is still on the floor, though, and when Vash gets up to open the door, he almost runs into the other man.

“Hey!” Wolfwood sounds a lot more excited than he did yesterday—he’s even smirking. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

Vash blinks, then smirks back. “You finally bought a razor?”

“Oh, _ha.”_ Darting past Vash, Wolfwood grabs his bag, slinging it over his and trying to fit it up against the Punisher. “Come on, will you? I just _‘shaved’_ three days off our trip.”

Vash grimaces at that joke, then prompts, “Yeah?” Wolfwood gestures for Vash to follow him out, so Vash gathers his things and hurries after him. Leading the way down the hall, Wolfwood walks over to the front door of the hotel, holding it open so Vash can see what’s on the other side.

“Can you believe it?” Wolfwood lets Vash take the door, scrambling over to a dark red motorcycle blocking the entrance and slinging one leg over it.

“Whuh—where’d you get that thing?” Last Vash heard, Wolfwood scrapped his old one for parts. Said he didn’t need it if he was gonna settle down in Bernardelli.

“I got up early, since something told me you’d be sleeping in.” Wolfwood pulls a cigarette out of his jacket and tries to talk around it while he lights the end. This time, he manages to inhale without coughing. “Anyway, I was walking around town, and I saw this sweaty, shady-looking bastard in a white suit. So I put on the old confessional shtick. I went up to him all, ‘The lord’s not happy with you. He knows what you’ve been up to, and he doesn’t approve. But he says you can save your soul if you just confess!’” He pats the bag where he keeps that ridiculous miniature church, chuckling, “So I pulled this baby out and stuck it on his head. Man, was he pissed! But I kept prying, kinda guessing at different things. Finally, I mentioned something about a mistress, and an age gap—it was like I flipped a switch! He turned into a nervous wreck, and I couldn’t get him to shut up! Charged him five double-dollars for every confession. That, plus the money we had saved for the rest of the trip, was juuuust enough to cover this baby.”

“The rest of—are you _kidding_ me!?” Vash’s voice cracks as he yelps, “You spent all our money? On a stupid _bike?_ We needed that!” _”_

“Come on, Needlenoggin!” Wolfwood starts the bike up, revving the engine a few times before shouting over the noise. “We’ll be back home by nightfall! It’ll be fine!”

“So what!” Vash shouts. “I had a cab driver with a perfectly working car! He was gonna take us almost all the way out there—you have no idea where this thing came from, or whether it’s a piece of garbage that’ll break down five siles out of town.” Wolfwood just cups a hand around his ear, like he can’t hear any of what Vash just said. Leaning back dramatically, Vash sighs, then stomps around to the other side. “… There’s no sidecar.”

“Just get on already!” Wolfwood yells.

Grimacing, Vash glances around, trying to ignore the way the only person on the street—some decrepit old man—looks at them like they’re crazy. “Fffffffine.” He winces like he’s getting onto a giant pile of backed up sewage, then sits down slowly, just behind Wolfwood. Trying to make sure there’s a gap between them, Vash grits his teeth and leans back with a shudder. “Ugh. Why couldn’t you be a pretty girl?”

“Funny,” Wolfwood notes, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He starts the bike, and they go lurching forward so fast, Vash has to grab onto the rim of the seat just to keep from flying off. They’re out of town in less than a minute, and once nobody’s looking, Vash reluctantly reaches forward and grabs onto Wolfwood’s shoulders.

Wolfwood laughs over the din of the engine, saying, “Hey, as long as it’s not my waist.” Grimacing uncomfortably, Vash stays quiet until Wolfwood pipes up again. “We still going the right way?”

Vash looks up, checking the angle of the suns, then nods and shouts, “Yep!”

“And you’re sure this is where that floating city crashed?” asks Wolfwood.

“Positive.”

“What makes you think those people are still gonna be there?”  Vash isn’t sure. Kind of why he was hoping to save a little bit more money. He didn’t exactly tell Wolfwood how long this trip was going to take, since he didn’t really know. Part of him expected to spend at least a day or two just searching.

“Call it a hunch,” Vash answers after a long pause.   

“Better be a damn good one,” grumbles Wolfwood, and that’s the last thing either of them says for a while.

Vash makes Wolfwood park the bike after a few hours have passed, and they both hike for another ile or two. Hopefully, far enough to stay inconspicuous. After all the trouble Vash put them through last time, he thinks the least he could do is try not to draw another assassin to their city. They find their way to an empty valley, with sheer cliffs on all sides, and a heavy dust cloud blocking out the suns.

Scratching his head, Wolfwood kicks at the sand, then cranes his neck back to stare up at the sky. “This is it, isn’t it?” Frowning, he tosses his cigarette aside. “Doesn’t look like anything’s passed through here in years.”

He’s right, but this is definitely where the ship crashed. Not that you’d be able to tell—Vash doesn’t even see a glimmer of metal or broken glass in the ground. He squints, looking around the landscape before frowning and taking a few steps towards… something. Vash isn’t sure what it is he’s looking at, but after more than a century of running around like a lunatic, he’s learned to trust his gut. And right now, his gut’s saying… ‘look at that thing!’

“What now?” Vash can hear this bristly sound as Wolfwood scratches his chin thoughtfully behind him. “If they were still here—well, still here, and not pissed off at you—they’d have sent one of those hovercraft things to come get you. Right?” Wolfwood raises his voice a little, like he can tell he doesn’t have Vash’s full attention.

Vash only half-listens what Wolfwood says, instead walking briskly towards the nearest cliff and gesturing for Wolfwood to follow. “Come on.”

Wolfwood sighs, then stomps after him, muttering, “Lead the way, Fido.”

Choosing to ignore that, Vash presses right up against the cliff, running his fingers along the smooth surface before making a small noise in surprise. “It’s not rock. This is metal!” Peeling his glove off, he puts his bare skin against the cliff again, looking for some kind of crevice or switch. But before he can spend too much time trying to find one, there’s a quiet beep and a loud whirr. Vash stumbles back as the rocky surface pushes out, then splits in half, opening wide to reveal an empty, metal chamber. After a second of staring at it, Vash realizes it’s an elevator.

“Well, would you look at that.” Laughing, Wolfwood claps a hand on Vash’s shoulder, giving him a teasing shove. “After you.”

Vash hesitates again—what if his ‘relatives’ didn’t make this? What if it’s some abandoned facility from a hundred years ago? Or, if those people created this, after everything they went through the last time Vash was here, would they really want to see him again?

 Wolfwood snaps him out of it, giving his back another push. “ _Today_ , Needlenoggin. I want answers.”

That’s right. This isn’t just about him anymore, is it? These people aren’t his only friends, and right now, Vash owes another friend a favor. Shaking his head, Vash grins as wide as he can, darting into the elevator. “Sorry! Guess I was just daydreaming.”

Grumbling, Wolfwood shakes his head, skulking in after him. “Would you knock it off already? You know that ‘happy-go-lucky moron’ routine doesn’t work on me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Vash still thinks about that ‘fake smile’ line Wolfwood said when they first met. “It never did.”


	4. Chapter 4

The doors of the elevator slam shut with a menacing clang, and both Vash and Wolfwood jump.

“You _positive_ this is the right place?” Wolfwood cups his chin, craning his neck back to stare up at the dim, flickering lights. Vash recognizes them as the kind of lights they used to put under cabinets in the labs onboard; apparently, they found a way to repurpose a lot of the ship parts. Even this elevator, from the inside, reminds Vash of the landing shuttle he’d have to use to get up to the old vessel. “Sure was a hell of a lot easier to get in this time.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Vash leans forward and grins at Wolfwood, then clasps his hands and rubs his cheek against them romantically. “They’ve gotten so trusting! They’re finally feeling the love and affection—all the _goodness_ and _generosity_ —that the people on the surface have to offer!”

Wolfwood gives him a blank stare, then reaches over and flicks him really hard on the end of his nose.

_“OW!”_ Vash clamps his hands over his face, moaning and shaking his head. “C-Can’t you be optimistic for once in your life?”

“No,” Wolfwood snaps. “Mostly because I’m not a damn moron. I mean, did you ever stop to think about how maybe, just _maybe_ , if you’d stop treating everyone you meet like a saint, you might not get the crap kicked out of you on a daily basis?”

“Yeah, but if I expected people to be jerks, then I—“ Huffing, Vash clutches his chest like his heart’s breaking, even though the gesture kind of makes that spot hurt. “—I just wouldn’t have the strength to go on!”

Wolfwood’s silent for a second, then he grabs Vash roughly around the neck, pulling him down for a noogie. Okay, that actually _does_ hurt. “OW! Ow! _Gck!_ QUIT IT!” He flails as much as he can with Wolfwood yanking him down, but that just makes him feel like he’s choking! Then, suddenly, the elevator stops with a huge ‘clunk’, sending both of them wobbling and forcing Wolfwood to let go of him. “I guess we’re here.”

Frowning, Wolfwood jams his hands in his pockets and slouches. Vash frowns, too, glancing around before staring at the door. Which… isn’t opening. He jumps when Wolfwood reaches out and knocks loudly, wincing and covering his ears as the clanging echoes around the chamber. “HELLO! Anybody out there?”

Yanking Wolfwood’s hand away, Vash forces him to stop. “Quit it!” Swallowing nervously, he leans forward and examines the door a little more closely. There’s a small hatch, which Vash manages to finagle open, and inside is a button and a speaker. Brow furrowing, Vash presses the button, talking into it. “Uh… Hello? It’s Vash! And, uh… Wolfwood.”  

There’s no answer—just the crackling of static.

“Great. Just _great_. I’ll tell you what happened!” Wolfwood leans against the wall of the elevator as he starts pawing around inside his jacket. “You think those people want anything to do with us after what happened? After we ruined their precious, floating paradise? If they’re still here, we just walked right into their trap! They’re gonna start pouring poisonous gas through the vents, or maybe they’ve got a whole firing squad waiting outside.”

“They’d never do anything like that!” Vash is scandalized by the whole idea. These are good people! Sure, they might be upset with him—and Vash would _definitely_ understand that—but they don’t hate him. At least…

Damn. Well, he really hopes they don’t.

Yanking a cigarette free, Wolfwood shoves it in his mouth, then pulls the Punisher off his back, starting to aim it at the door. “Step back. We’ll just have to blast our way out of here.”

“Are you crazy?” Vash yelps, shoving the barrel of the gun down. “At least give it five more minutes.” Wolfwood growls under his breath, trying again to point the Punisher upwards, and before long, they’re both wrestling over it. “What h-happened… to patience… being a…. _virtue!?”_

“That doesn’t apply when you’re stuck in a death-trap with a useless pacifist. What are you scared of? Hurting the _architecture?_ ” Wolfwood yanks one last time, pulling the Punisher out of Vash’s grip before reluctantly setting it down on the ground. Grunting moodily, he fishes a match out of his pocket.

Wrinkling his nose, Vash grumbles, “You better not start smoking in here.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” snaps Wolfwood. “This is gonna be our coffin, after all.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Mr. Wolfwood,” a voice rings out, tinny and slightly-muffled, and Vash jumps, bending towards the speaker again.

“Doc? That you?”

“Yes! I’m quite impressed that you managed to find us…” The door beeps and slowly slides open, revealing the old professor, who’s standing just beyond the elevator at the start of a long, dim hallway. “Er—impressed, I suppose, but not surprised.” He gestures for Vash and Wolfwood to follow him as he turns and starts walking. “To what do we owe this visit, Vash? Normally you stop by every _decade_ , not every year.”

“Eheheheh!” Vash lets out a pitchy laugh, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, you know me! I’m a man of the people, after all.” He didn’t expect this to be exactly like the ship, but he doesn’t see any doors, or anything that might indicate a living space. Just a long tunnel carved out of stone, with a string of minimal lights across the ceiling. “Speaking of which, where is everybody?”

“Oh, they’re deeper inside the cliff face. After that whole Puppet Master fiasco, we decided that having the lodgings so close to the entrance wasn’t safe.” Finally, they make it to the end of the hall, which houses a massive, metal door. The doc starts typing in a long access code, then steps aside for Vash and Wolfwood to enter as the door swings open. “So, Vash—what can I do for you? Do you need a tune up? Want to take a break from it all? Or are you just checking up on us?”

Vash swallows tightly. None of the above, really—boy, does that ever make him sound like a complete jerk. It’s so easy to forget how much time passes for humans, but Vash can’t believe it’s already been a year. It’s not that Vash means to ditch people for so long, it’s just that… Well, the time kind of _flies by_ from his end.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear Wolfwood at first. “Well?”

“Uh—what?” Vash smiles uncomfortably. “Sorry! I must have sand in my ears.”

“I said,” Wolfwood states, “aren’t you gonna answer the old man?”

“Huh?” Oh, right. He asked Vash why he was here. “Actually, doc, I…” Vash glances back at Wolfwood helplessly, then goes on. “ _We_ both had a few questions.” The professor shuts the door behind them and then walks ahead, leading them through another short hall; this time, it’s a lot smoother, and there are more ship lights built right into the ceiling. It ends with three more doorways, and the professor turns towards the one on the left, pulling back a clear plastic, curtain and gesturing for Vash and Wolfwood to enter. “Well, come on, then. We can discuss things in my lab.”

Vash follows Wolfwood into the tiny, dim room, which, honestly, looks like they ripped the professor’s old lab straight out of the spaceship, then tried to reassemble it without the blueprints. “As you’ve just seen, we’ve done quite a lot of work in very little time.  We carved out an entire system of tunnels in less than a year. There’s still work to be done, of course, and most of the more impressive structures are deeper inside. We can see those later, if you’d like. Much of the damaged ship went into these tunnels, as well as elevators and transit systems, and of course, my laboratory.” Vash looks around the tiny space, and has to admit, even though the layout’s totally different from what he remembers, it still feels familiar. “Once a week, we send out a convoy to the nearest town and trade for food, water, clothing...” The doc pushes a few hanging wires aside and eases down into a well-worn desk chair, gesturing for Vash and Wolfwood to take a seat across from him. Vash obliges, dropping onto one of the small stools, but Wolfwood stands, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “The generator I rigged up is powerful enough to provide electricity for this entire complex, but it’s not a perfect substitute for a plant. We have to manufacture gasoline—our lifestyle hasn’t had to change too drastically, although everyone’s had to pitch in and work a little harder.”

“That’s good.” Vash nods, trying to pretend like a massive weight hasn’t been lifted off his shoulders. “I’m… I’m sorry. A-About everything that happened last time I... last time I was here.” It feels like he should be standing up on a podium, apologizing to the whole ship, but honestly, he’s not sure he could take it.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The professor scoffs. “It would’ve happened someday. We’re just lucky so few people were hurt.” Leaning back, he folds his arms over his stomach and gives them both an inquisitive look. “So… You said the two of you had questions.” He pauses thoughtfully before adding, “They must be pretty important, for you to travel so far out of your way.”

“You said it, old man.” Wolfwood answers first, which is good, because after the doc says that, Vash starts wondering if his question really _matters._ If it really is important. He’s had holes shot through him more times than he can count, but this was where he decided to draw the line and get help? Shaking his head, he tries to drown out those thoughts, listening to Wolfwood talk instead. “Believe it or not, this isn’t a fashion statement.” Wolfwood runs his fingers through his hair, tousling the blond streak. “Little over a month ago, I was lying dead next to a confessional in a pool of my own blood. I… I _died_. I know I did. But Needlenoggin brought me back.” Vash watches as Wolfwood’s hands tighten into fists. “Problem is, he’s got no clue how he did it. And the only reason I care is because he did… _something_ to me.”

“What do you mean?” The doc leans forward, obviously intrigued.

“I’m not sure,” admits Vash. “I blacked out for a while when I found him, and when I came to, Wolfwood was… alive again.”

“That’s not all.” Finally lighting up a cigarette, Wolfwood breathes in deep, then pulls it from his mouth as he exhales. “I feel… different. I don’t need to do as much to… I don’t know. It’s like I don’t need to do as much to keep myself going.” Wolfwood throws his hands in the air, already aggravated. “I only need to sleep for a couple hours. I don’t eat as much, but I’m not losing weight. I haven’t had a hangover in a month—hell, I feel like I’m twenty again. It’s ridiculous! I smoke a pack and a half a day, but lately, it’s like I’m breathing out of an air filter.”

“Interesting.” The doc gets up, walking over to Wolfwood and taking his hand, turning it over to examine his palm. “It was rumored that the mothership where Vash and Knives were born had conducted experiments on plants, trying to understand their biology and how their energy was produced. There were never any records of such experiments, so most of that information comes from Vash here.” Turning to look up at Vash, the professor asks, “Do you recall there being any work done on the effects of humanoid plants on humans?”

“Uh…” Shrinking into himself, Vash fidgets and turns away. “To tell you the truth, doc, I don’t remember a whole lot.” Not about that, anyway. He and Knives were mostly relegated to the technological stuff. He knows now why the crew would’ve wanted to keep them busy with that.

“That’s alright. I suppose you would have told your friend if you did.” Sighing, the doc pats Wolfwood on the arm and steps back. “Well, I’m afraid there isn’t a whole lot I can tell you that isn’t guesswork, but maybe it will shed _some_ light. My theory is that Vash here gave off some compound that allowed you to take on plant-like characteristics, mostly in the interest of helping you survive.” He shrugs. “It could be something that filters out of your system naturally, or you could develop into a full-fledged, humanoid plant like Vash.”

Wolfwood chokes, nearly inhaling his cigarette.

“Of course,” says the doc, “that’s all speculation. I certainly wouldn’t count on it. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more, but unless you want to submit to some blood tests, a physical examination, maybe even some form of brain scan…” He looks at Wolfwood almost hopefully, but Wolfwood shakes his head immediately, still hacking into his hand.

“N-No can do. Besides, since it sounds like you’re saying what I’ve already been thinking… “ Coughing one last time, he flicks the butt aside. “Why don’t Vash and I get out of your hair as soon as possible. You know.” Wolfwood gives the professor’s bald head a pointed look. “ _Metaphorically.”_

“Very well.” The doc nods, and Vash pipes up.

“Hey! What about me?” Laughing, Vash jumps to his feet, clamping a hand over Wolfwood’s mouth. “And don’t worry about him, all right? This guy likes to speak his mind, but he’s a big ‘ol teddy bear! I’m sure he’d love to stay for dinner, he’s just too embarrassed to admit it.” Wolfwood squirms in Vash’s grip, trying to bite at his hand, but Vash still waits a minute before letting him go. “Besides, there was, uh…” He lets go of Wolfwood, all too aware the other man’s listening very closely. Vash wouldn’t go into too much detail when they left—just that he needed to talk to the professor, and that it was important. He didn’t really feel like Wolfwood needed to know about his weird, _humiliating_ problem. “There’s one more thing.”

“Oh?” Once again, the Doc looks like he can’t wait to hear it.

“I’ve felt kinda different, too.” Glancing down almost nervously, Vash adds, “Since that happened. It’s like I’m sick, or really weak.” Vash has never had a cold, but he imagines it’d feel like what he’s been going through. The closest comparison he has is how he feels right after he uses his angel arm, but even that’s not quite the same. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, and I can’t ask Knives. He’s… I mean—I wouldn’t _want_ to ask him, even if I could. And, besides him, you know more about plants than anyone else I’ve ever met.” Now that he’s saying this out loud, it seems pretty stupid. If he couldn’t help Wolfwood—if he didn’t know what was happening to Vash _then_ —why would he know what’s happening to him now?

“And you’re just… extremely tired?”

“No. There are, uh… That’s not all.” Wincing, Vash looks over his shoulder at Wolfwood, then sidles over a little so his back’s facing the other man. He unbuttons his coat, then pries his shirt open. “Mostly this really weird, um…” He has to wince to himself, violently, before he’s able to mutter the next part. “ _Leaking.”_ It’s been happening again, just a little, since he got up this morning. Not enough to soak through his coat, but enough to be obvious, even now.

“Hm.” Without warning, the doc reaches up and swipes some of the substance off of Vash’s chest with his finger.

“Eugh. That is disgusting.” Wolfwood says, and Vash leaps about a foot in the air, realizing the guy somehow walked right up next to him without Vash even noticing.

“Hey!” Vash pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

The doc, meanwhile, is already back over at his desk, shoving his books out of the way so he can start fiddling with a microscope. Is he… ? Oh. He is. He’s putting Vash’s… _liquid_ onto a slide and examining it. Grimacing, Vash watched for a second, wondering if he should look away. He decides to turn around just when the professor speaks up again. “As you know, most knowledge of independent plants such as yourself, and Knives… Well, it died along with that first ship crashing over a century ago. Your brother was able to recover much of that information, but as you’ve told me, he kept his findings to himself.”

“… Yeah.” Nodding, Vash fixes his shirt, then starts buttoning up his coat. That was true, sure, but Vash never tried to get a biology lesson out of Knives, for obvious reasons. Hell, even if Knives hadn’t ended up a murderer, Vash felt like his brother would’ve deemed this stuff ‘on a need to know basis.’

“I had always had an interest in plants—it was why I was trained from a young age to look after the one powering our ship. But I didn’t begin to study independent plants—that is, I didn’t dedicate a large portion of my experiments and research into finding new, or should I say, _lost_ information on plants… until I met you.” He says that so matter-of-fact; it obviously isn’t meant to be some huge revelation, but Vash still feels a weird twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Now, I’ve learned quite a bit from studying you, and I’m very grateful for the opportunity. But this will most likely be another guess. An educated one, certainly, but still a guess.” The doc turned around on his stool, leaning forward with a thoughtful frown. “That being said, we can move forward from there, and I’m certain I’ll be able to prove my hypothesis with a bit more testing.”

“So?” Wolfwood, clearly annoyed that he hasn’t gotten a straight diagnosis, starts tapping his foot impatiently. “You know what’s wrong with him, or not?”

“I believe I do.” Pausing, the Doc gets to his feet and walks over to a dusty cabinet, prying one of the drawers open and leafing through the papers inside. “Even among ancient documents, there was very little information on plant reproduction. Obviously, most of what we know is how to maintain and repair a plant. If we could breed them, this planet could have considerably more industrial development. We were privy to slightly more information on our ship, having limited access to old SEEDS data. And, while there was no documentation on how independent plants reproduce, I found that most cases seemed to believe their young are born via parthenogenesis.”

“Parthy… _what?”_ Vash sees Wolfwood grimace like trying to say that word put a bad taste in his mouth.

“Parthenogenesis,” repeats the old man. “It’s a type of asexual reproduction. For example, certain female species of lizards are able to reproduce without any involvement from a male. Essentially, they give birth to genetic copies of themselves. Of course, this only happens when they are unable to find a mate.”

Vash fails to swallow the huge lump that’s swelling up in his throat. “And… what does this have to do with me, exactly?”

“Certainly, by plant standards, you’d be very young—usually, it’s several centuries before a plant is considered ‘mature’ enough to go through the reproductive process—but I feel as though your interaction with Mr. Wolfwood may have shortened your lifespan enough for your body to take action.”

Vash feels like every single one of those words went through his head without him understanding a bit of what the doc just said. “Wh-What… What’re you, uh… saying?”

“I’m saying,” the professor clarified, “that, despite your outwardly male appearance, you have the ability to undergo parthenogenesis. And, if my suspicions are correct…” He smiles up at Vash, and sure, it’s probably supposed to be reassuring, and nice, kind of fatherly, but instead, it’s just _horrifying._ Especially when he says the next bit.

“You’re pregnant.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little heads up; Vash's viewpoints in this chapter don't really reflect my own, but anything else felt out of character. I just ask that you take it with a grain of salt and realize it doesn't represent my personal views on the real world issue.

“I didn’t touch him, I swear!” Wolfwood backs up against the wall, pointing shakily at Vash.

“Mr. Wolfwood, please!” The doc crosses his arms, giving a little huff. “That’s not at all what I meant. Your resurrection merely kickstarted the process in Vash’s body. For all we know, this could have happened if he had used his angel arm again, or any other major draw of power. The child, if there is one, will have no genetic relation to you.”

“Oh…” Vash watches numbly as Wolfwood lets out a massive exhale, clutching his heart like he just fought off death. “That’s _great_ news.” Straightening up, he claps his hands together. “Boy! I feel like a drink. Who’s in? Uh.” He glances down at the old man. “Guess it’d have to be me and you, huh?”

“Yes, well… Let’s save that discussion for a bit later.” Vash jumps when the doc gives his arm a light pat. “How are you feeling, Vash?”

“Whuh.” Vash just makes a weird little noise, blinking stupidly and staring at the opposite wall. How is he feeling? How’s he _feeling?_

He… has no idea, actually. The closest comparison he can come up with is whenever he’s doing something extra stupid and insane, and he can’t focus on how terrible or sore or miserable he’s gonna feel once the thrill wears off and it’s all over. Pregnant, huh? What does Vash even know about pregnancy? He’s never even talked to anyone who was pregnant—at least, not for more than five seconds, and not about having a baby. And who knows what a plant getting pregnant is supposed to be like? Not Vash—probably not even the doc. What if he turns into a tree like Knives? What if he ends up growing a bunch of extra limbs and a gigantic carapace, like the other plants? What if he has to spend the rest of his life in a bulb? Finally, after what’s probably way too long, he manages to make himself speak. And grin, and laugh a little under his breath. “Me? I’m good!”

Okay. That was a lie, but Vash has never been one to dwell too hard on things. And that was sort of another lie—maybe what he means is, he never lets the things he carries with him bring him down too much.

“You’re… good,” Wolfwood echoes back at him, scratching his head and giving Vash this look like he’s calling him a dumbass without having to say it out loud. “Seriously? Are you _really_ a man?”

“Wh-What kind of a question is that?” Wolfwood’s seen him strip naked and beg before— _whoa!_ Not like that, just back at Lina’s place, when he was trying to get those bandits to back off. (Wait, was Wolfwood there for that? Ugh—it doesn’t matter!)

“I’m just saying, you’re taking this way too well.” Wolfwood crosses his arms with a grumble. “If you need to lose your mind over this, you’d better do it while we’re still here. I’m not gonna ride all the way back to Bernardelli with you having a breakdown on the back of my bike.”

“With all due respect, Vash,” the doc adds, “all of this is a lot to take in. Are you certain you’re processing it?”

“Of course I am!” Scoffing, Vash lets out another laugh before shooting Wolfwood a glare. “Pregnant. That’s… Yeah. Pregnant.” It’s not that bad, right? He starts gesturing as he lists off what he’s pretty sure is the general idea. “You just eat a ton, get really fat, and them _bam—_ baby!” His face kinda falls at that last part. A baby. That’s…

He presses his lips together, swallowing as his arms drop to his sides.

“Well,” the old man begins after an awkward pause, “that’s the typical process for humans, yes. For a plant such as yourself…” He shrugs. “Who knows. But, I would assume, due to your physical form, and most of your biological functions, it would be quite similar.”

“Hear that? You won’t lay a giant egg,” Wolfwood pipes up, smirking. The professor turns to give him an irritated look and Wolfwood adds, “Or would it be a seed?”

“ _Thank you_ , Mr. Wolfwood,” grumbles the old man. He steps forward, patting Vash lightly on the arm. For some reason, Vash feels like pulling away, but he makes himself stay still. “I trust that the journey wasn’t too strenuous. I may not be able to predict what this will be like for you—assuming you definitely are pregnant, and _do_ wish to carry through with the entire gestation—so feel free to come visit again if you have any concerns.” He smiles broadly. “Or, just to visit at all. We do miss seeing you around here.”

There’s a little flutter in his chest when the doc says that, and suddenly, Vash feels a tiny bit better. Chuckling, he folds his arms behind his head, nodding quickly. “Heh! Yeah. I’ll try to come around more often, okay?”

“That would be nice.” The professor starts to step out in the hallway, then turns back towards Vash and Wolfwood. “Oh, uh—why don’t you two join me for lunch? You really must see what we’ve done with the old centrifuge.”

 

* * *

 

  

“I knew this was gonna happen.” Vash sighs, craning his neck back to stare up at the suns. It’s getting to be late afternoon, so they’d better get a move on. Whenever the hell Wolfwood’s ready to pack it up, anyway.

“Bullshit! You just _happened_ to talk crap about this bike the whole trip. It would’ve died even if you were singing its praises.” Wolfwood groans, finally closing the hatch on the side of the motorcycle and getting to his feet. “Especially with your luck.”

“Hey!” Vash bristles. “What does this have to do with my luck? It was your stupid _impulse buy_ that got us stranded.”

“We’re not stranded, Needlenoggin.” Wolfwood fumbles with his lighter, talking around his cigarette as he starts walking. “We can make it back by nightfall. Why don’t you put those stork legs to work and get walking?”

Vash glances back the way they came, then ahead—which just looks like more formless, never-ending desert—and groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so mean to me?”

Wolfwood just waves him off. “Because we both know you have it coming.”  

“Hey! What’d I do?” Vash whines.

“Turned me into a walking flower garden, for one,” counters Wolfwood. “Plus, the way you talked about your friend, I figured that old geezer of yours was gonna fix me up in no time. But look at me now! I’m out 900 double dollars, and I’m right back where I started.”

“Yup!” Vash rolls his eyes. “It’s real tough, being a plant. The strength, the power, the perfect good looks—not everybody’s cut out for it.” Vash has taken living for over a century pretty well, but he feels like that’d just give Wolfwood more things to complain about.

“Was that sarcasm?” Wolfwood stomps ahead, then stops dead in his tracks. Vash watches as his whole body goes stiff before he shudders violently. “Guh! Wait a second—if I’m a plant, does that mean _I_ could—“ Completely lost, Vash watches as Wolfwood points at him, then mimes having a huge dome of a stomach. Oh _._ When Vash just shrugs, Wolfwood blanches and moves like he’s gonna start sprinting back the way they came. “W-We gotta go back! Get this— _plant matter_ out of me. There’s no way in hell I’m dealing that kind of nightmare.”

“Seriously?” Groaning, Vash catches Wolfwood by the arm, yanking him back. “That’s not gonna happen to you!” Okay, Vash isn’t sure about that, but he’s _close_ to sure. What he does know is that this probably happened because he’s an independent plant, and apparently, this is normal for them. For… _him._ But Wolfwood is still… “You’re still… mostly human! Just… a little more durable. And human guys don’t…” Trailing off, Vash makes a face. Maybe it’s just because it’s still sinking in, but saying ‘get pregnant’ out loud isn’t something he really wants to do.

Wolfwood yanks his arm out of Vash’s grip, glancing over his shoulder like he’s this close to bolting, before growling under his breath and shaking his head. “You better be right about that, Needlenoggin.”

“Hey, would I lie to you?” Vash laughs, grinning at Wolfwood and then shrinking uncomfortably when he can _feel_ the glare the guy’s giving him from behind his sunglasses. “Eheh…”

“Alright, smartass…” Wolfwood doesn’t follow that up at first; he just goes back to walking, and Vash jogs a couple paces to catch up with him. They’re both quiet for another minute or two before Wolfwood pipes up again. “So. You gonna keep it?”

Vash tilts his head in confusion. “Keep what?”

“What do you _think_ , moron?” Sighing irritably, Wolfwood jams his hands into his pockets. “The old geezer confirmed it—you’re knocked up.” He shrugs, asking a little less forcefully, “Are you gonna keep it?”

“Oh.” Oh, yeah! That’s right—Vash wasn’t sure he was ready to think about that yet. Keeping it himself just seems like a bad idea, not to mention _scary…_ Sure, Vash loves kids, but he’s not crazy! Being a parent is a lot harder than what Vash normally does with kids—that is, he just runs around with them in the town square for half an hour. Vash doesn’t think he’s really cut out for that. But, on the bright side, he’s met so many nice people along the way, over so many years, and some of them might _love_ the chance to raise a child… “Well, wouldn’t be the first time a human raised a plant, I guess..”

“No, idiot!” Wolfwood groans again. “I mean… _keep it_ at all. Like, now.” Voice getting quieter, Wolfwood mutters, “You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”

Vash tenses up when Wolfwood says that, and he feels a little spark of anger light up in the pit of his stomach. “I could never do that.”

“What?” It really hits Vash again—how different they are—when Wolfwood sounds so _confused_ by what Vash is saying. “Why the hell not?”

Vash doesn’t want to get into it, really, so he just sort of… fakes it. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t take that kind of pain!” Well, he _assumes_ it would be painful. Vash doesn’t know for sure, and he isn’t all too comfortable picturing it. “I’d probably have a heart attack, and then I’d end up crying all the way to the pearly gates!”

“Vash…” Wolfwood wipes the sweat off his brow, giving Vash a tired look. “Stop trying to pull that crap.” Giving another short pause, Wolfwood takes one last drag from his cigarette and flings it aside. “… There’s no shame in it. I know a guy out east who can do it safely. Besides—it’s just us three who know: you, me, and that old bag of bones. Neither of us would give you a hard time for doing it. You _know_ that.”

Vash swallows, but doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Needlenoggin.” Wolfwood stops, and Vash walks past him a few paces before reluctantly stopping, too. “Say something. You’re scaring me.”

 “I… “ What is Vash supposed to say? He doesn’t want to get into this, when he already knows what his answer is, and that he’s not changing it. “I know why… people… Why they would choose to do that. I understand it.” They’re probably terrified, or confused, or even fearing for their own life. Maybe it’s a last resort. And Vash does know some people value their own lives above everyone else’s, even if he’ll never understand that. But—“But I couldn’t do it.” Even if it isn’t much of anything yet, it’s alive, right? And if Vash can keep that life from being snuffed out, he has to. “I will always do everything I can to save a life. You know that.” Wolfwood knows Vash better than anyone; his past, his beliefs, whatever hare-brained idea he happens to be cooking up. The other man’s either right there with him, or already one step ahead. In a way, Vash is surprised he even asked about this.

“Yeah. I know.” Even though Wolfwood’s just standing next to him, Vash feels like the other man has a million things he wants to say, but he can’t pick just one. Eventually, he settles on, “This isn’t gonna be a picnic, you know. I mean, Vash the Stampede, running around with a bun in the oven?” Wolfwood shudders, and Vash almost feels jealous that he hasn’t gotten to react like that. Sure, he’s positive about his decision, but he’s still… _completely_ weirded out. Most of him is still trying to wrap his head around the idea of actually having something growing inside him. “You can’t set foot in a town without half of the buildings exploding.”

“That’s not true!” Vash appreciates the concern, but things are better now! “It’ll be fine—my bounty’s history, I’ve been in Bernardelli for almost a month without any trouble, and there won’t be any mercenaries coming after me since Knives is...” _Whatever_ Knives is.  “You know.”

“Oh, sure.” Wolfwood slouches suddenly, like having a conversation with Vash is physically weighing him down. “With the law, lone gunmen, and your psychotic brother out of the picture, all that’s left working against us is your luck.” Wolfwood shakes his head, craning his neck down to stare at his feet. “I still don’t like those odds.”

“You’re a priest, aren’t you?” Vash grins and gives a thumbs up. “Try having a little faith!”


	6. Chapter 6

“You know, Needlenoggin…” Wolfwood sighs as he sets his drink down, staring over the edge of the bar like he’s daydreaming. “I think this might really be it.”

“Might be what?” Vash is still trying not to say too many words at once—he bought a whole bag of donuts before they came in the saloon, just so he wouldn’t feel left out about not being able to drink. Of course, then it turned out they don’t allow outside food, and he had to scarf down all of them so he didn’t feel wasteful. “Ugh.”

“I might really settle down.” The way he says that, it’s like he’s making a big, shameful admission. “I mean, as much as somebody like me _can_. I’ll still take the odd job, and travel out to the old convent every couple of weeks. Hell, who knows—maybe we’ll move the orphans to a church out here!” He starts laughing. “I bet the girls would love to help out.”

“Yeah, probably.” Vash scrunches his face up, swallowing and trying to keep his nausea from getting any worse. He swears, his stomach was never this weak before all this! Maybe his body is just freaking out for his brain, since every time Vash thinks about his whole… _problem_ , he just tries to distract himself right away before he loses his mind.

“They sure are great,” says Wolfwood  fondly. “Millie’s… She’s really something, Vash.”

Vash nods dumbly—of course Millie’s something. She’s kind, strong, and compassionate. Sure, she’s not the brightest bulb in the pack, but he’s always felt like he can be himself around her! And, if nobody else is on Vash’s wavelength, he can usually count on Millie understanding him. “Yep! She’s pretty great.”

“How many other girls do you think would be fine with my line of work?” Wolfwood lifts his glass up, moving his hand around in little circles so the ice cubes twirl. (Vash doesn’t even know why he’s still drinking—just the other day, he was complaining about how alcohol just didn’t do it for him like it used to.) “Not even fine—she’s downright _supportive._ I bet she’d even come with me if I asked.” Chuckling, he ducks his head. “Can’t you just picture her getting way too into it, blasting anybody who gets within ten feet of whatever poor shmuck hired us?”

“Mmm. Yep.” Vash clamps a hand over his mouth, burping queasily into his palm. By the time the wave of queasiness passes, he realizes, a second too late, that the whole bar’s gone quiet.

“Well, well.” The saloon doors swing wide open, and Vash can see three silhouettes standing on the porch. “What the hell kind of a ‘welcome back’ party is this?” The three figures stroll inside—they’re all men, dressed in fur ponchos with fang necklaces. There’s one huge guy with a thick mustache, and one scrawny, weasely looking teenager. The tallest one tips his hat slightly, leering out from under the brim. “It’s peaceful and quiet, people are paying for their drinks, and nobody’s been shot.” He chuckles, then asks, “The _Oso_ brothers deserve a little more excitement than that, don’t you think?”

“GET LOST!” Somebody flings a glass towards them, but the big one doesn’t even flinch when it shatters against the wall a few inches from his head.

“Now, now! That’s no way to treat a valued customer.” The tallest strolls over to the counter, and the other two follow close behind, watching as their brother leans towards the bartender. “I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks. Oh, and, uh, how about a small fee. Just enough to cover the cost of us _not_ blowing your entire restaurant to smithereens!”

The bartender goes pale, moving like he’s going to start rifling through the register. He stays silent for a moment, only to turn back around at the drop of a hat, a loaded pistol cocked in his shaking hands. “Y-You get lost, you hear? You’re not welcome in our establishment. We got a nice reputation here!”  

“Reputation? _Ha!_ Now there’s a damn laugh.” The tall brother slips a hand into his poncho, and pulls out a gargatuan handgun, holding it lazily in his palm. “If it wasn’t us terrorizing you, it’d be somebody else. Or someone other than that. This planet’s a pile a shit, and so are the people on it. At least me and my boys have the decency to admit what we are.” Making a ‘tssk’ noise, he shakes his head. “And you know what else I am? _I_ am pissed off off—pissed off that you’d dare to talk to me like that.” His tone gets a little darker. “I think you’d better pay me back for being humiliated.” He lifts his gun and takes aim, pointing right at the bartender’s face. “How about with your ear?”

A shot from somewhere in the opposite end of the bar goes zipping by the brothers. It doesn’t hit anyone, but it’s close enough to make all three wince.

“We’re not afraid of you idiots.” A customer lowers his gun, getting to his feet before grinning at Vash. “Besides, we’ve got Vash the Stampede looking out for us now.”

“What?” Vash grins, trying not to panic. He was starting to think nobody in Bernardelli actually knew who he was! The town was still standing, after all—that doesn’t really mesh well with his reputation! _“_ Awe, come on! Don’t put me on the spot like that. I get stage-fright.”

“That guy?” The tallest brother gawks at Vash while his siblings struggle to hold back their laughter. He looks Vash up and down, trying so hard to seem unimpressed that it’s over the top. “You’re pretending that twiggy freak is Vash the Stampede?”

“Hold on, Silas.” One of the other brothers leers, lifting his firearm, too. “Maybe we oughta put that theory to the test. These hicks might be full of it, but at least we can have some fun with this feller in the meantime.”

“Hey, I’ve got a better idea!” Vash stands up slowly, both hands raised in a peaceful gesture. “Why don’t we put down our weapons and just… talk it out?”

Suddenly, there’s a hand grabbing at the crook of his elbow. Wolfwood, through gritted teeth, demands, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, have we not met?” Vash smiles a strained smile down at him. “I’m Vash, and I just can’t _stand_ the sight of blood.”

“You wanna get shot, idiot?” Wolfwood stands up, too, hissing, “Didn’t you just decide to keep that thing? So why are you trying to get _shot full of holes?”_

Vash frowns at Wolfwood, then blanches. Thing? What does he… Oh. Yeah, he—he forgot. Somehow.

“Ooh! Looks like a real interesting conversation you two are havin’,” drawls the leader of the gang. “How ‘bout you share it with the rest of the class?”

Wolfwood stares for a second, then chuckles, lowering his head. “You know what, kids? I’d love to.”

Vash has time to blink—and he isn’t exaggerating when he says that—before Wolfwood snatches his gun out of his holster and puts a bullet through the oldest one’s shoulder. Then, as soon as the other two brothers aim towards him, Wolfwood sinks another shot into the left one’s knee, misses the third, then shoots the fourth one through the right’s abdomen.

Vash, along with every other person in the bar, just gawk stupidly as the trio collapses in a heap by the door. Then, the whole building erupts into cheers, beer flying everywhere as they start clamoring towards the entrance. A few people grab the brothers and start restraining them, and a good portion of the patrons flock over to Wolfwood, talking over one another eagerly. Vash… just keeps staring, jaw slack as Wolfwood passes him his gun. Finally, he closes his mouth and swallows, slipping his gun back into its holster.

“How—“ he mumbles, then stops himself. It’s pretty obvious, actually. Wolfwood was already an incredible shot, especially for an ordinary man. But now, with his plant abilities boosting his talent, he’s…

Okay, honestly? Vash is almost… _jealous_. It took him nearly a century of practice to get as good as he is now! Wolfwood’s only been at it for thirty years, but one little dose of plant power, and he’s giving Vash more of a run for his money than ever before.

“Alright, Needlenoggin.” Wolfwood claps him on the back as he worms free of his fanbase, then starts shoving Vash towards the back door. “As tempting as it is to leave you speechless, you and I have some business to discuss.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Meryl’s voice is muffled, and Vash can barely hear her. She’s refused to move her hands from her face for the past minute. “Vash, why do you keep doing these things?”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Vash glances around defensively when everybody gives him a funny look. “At least, not on purpose. What’re you so mad about, anyway?”

“I can’t take it!” Meryl drags her palms down her face, letting her hands fall to the table as she stares bleakly over Vash’s shoulder. “The insurance, the _destruction_ , the fact that you’re an _alien_ and you had a crazy, genocidal twin out to destroy Gunsmoke—that was enough! My brain was full to bursting, okay!?” Her shoulders slumping, Meryl drops her gaze towards the table, picking up a spoon so she can stir her small cup of coffee gradually faster and faster. “Now—Now you’re telling me your brother is a tree, Wolfwood _died_ and came back to life, and all of that caused you to become p… _pre….”_ Her hand freezes and she just… stops. Apparently, that word’s just too much for her to say.

“I think it’s neat!” Millie beams, placing her hand on top of Vash’s. Vash smiles sheepishly back. “Vash, you love kids, right? You’re going to be a great mom.” Wolfwood wheezes into his hand at ‘mom’ and turns away while Millie looks up at him, confused. “What? What’d I say?”

“Well, I _absolutely_ disagree.” Meryl crosses her arms, apparently over being shocked, and back to being business-like. Well, she never really stays out of that mode for too long unless she’s completely wasted. (Vash kind of wishes she were wasted right now, actually.) “Just because you goof off sometimes with other people’s kids, it doesn’t mean you’re ready to become a parent.”

“I could be!” protests Vash, ignoring the way his guts twinge nervously. He’s still not so sure about the idea of raising this baby—if it even is a normal _baby_. He’s been having a lot of weird dreams about something that’s a lot more plant than humanoid. But then he thinks about Rem, and what she’d say—or, how Vash would give just about _anything_ to have her back—and he feels rotten for even considering making this someone else’s problem.

“Before we even get to that point, we’ve got something else to talk about,” Wolfwood insists. “And it’s _not_ planning a date for the baby shower. I’m sure you both heard about this afternoon’s shoot out?”

“Of course we did!” Meryl apparently doesn’t care about Vash’s delicate condition, because she leans across the table to smack the side of his head. “What were you thinking!? You’ve only been back in town for a few days—how did you manage to blow half the saloon up?”

“It was a coincidence!” Seriously! Meryl can’t blame him for everything, right? Next, she’s gonna get mad at him because it’s too hot outside. “Those guys just showed up out of nowhere. And I was gonna handle it _non-violently_! Wolfwood’s the one who shot them, and the rest of the damage was from the celebrating…”

“Hey! You’re the whole reason I had to shoot them.” Wolfwood jabs a finger in Vash’s direction. “You practically jumped on the bar and asked ‘em to use you for target practice!” Lowering his voice, Wolfwood hisses from between his teeth, “What the hell happened to taking it easy, huh? Lead doesn’t count as a prenatal vitamin, you know.”

“I know that! But I—“ Vash’s face starts burning. “It was just—I was—“

“It’s just reflex for him,” Meryl grumbles, and Vash looks at her in surprise. Sighing, she shakes her head, then turns to Wolfwood. “He’s been taking bullets for people since before we were born. That behavior’s not going to disappear overnight.”

“Believe me, I get it,” grouses Wolfwood. “I’ve been watching this jackass in action for just as long as you two have.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Millie scolds. Wolfwood, to his credit, actually looks a little chastised. “Vash only wants to help people. You shouldn’t yell at him for trying to do the right thing.”

“Okay, okay! He’s a martyr, we get it.” Wolfwood grabs his drink, downing it quickly before he continues. “That’s not the issue here.”

Vash blinks. “It’s not?”

“Of course not!” Rolling his eyes, Wolfwood says, “I don’t expect you to stay out of trouble. For God’s sake, getting yourself into some crazy mess every ten minutes is your only real talent.”

“Only real—“ Vash gasps, genuinely offended. “It is _not!_ I’d like to see _you_ eat thirty donuts in less than ten minutes—“

Meryl throws her arm out between them, silencing them both. “Point, Wolfwood! What’s your point?”

Lifting his hand, Wolfwood states slowly, “If the poor bastard can’t keep himself from getting into a shootout, we send him someplace where there aren’t any shootouts.”

“Uh…” Vash exchanges glances with Meryl and Millie—yeah, even _Millie_ gets how weird that statement is.

“Did you hit your head recently?” asks Meryl.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wolfwood grumbles, waving her off. “I know what you’re thinking. But there actually is a town where, once upon a time, this idiot—“ He jerks a thumb at Vash again. “—managed to stay under the radar for six whole months.”

It takes Vash less than a second to realize exactly where Wolfwood’s talking about. Wolfwood studies Vash’s face for a second, then chuckles.

“That’s right.” He pushes his empty glass away and leans back. “Pack your things, Loverboy. We’re gonna pay Granny a visit.”


	7. Chapter 7

“The hell do you mean, you thought _I_ was gonna ‘keep an eye on him’?” Wolfwood bellows. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?”

“You _do_ have an entire church-full of orphans in your care,” mutters Meryl, though she looks away innocently when Wolfwood glowers at her.

“That’s completely different! A certain _somebody_ is old enough to take care of himself.” Huffing, Wolfwood crosses his arms, tapping his foot and stirring up a small cloud of dust while Vash stands back uncomfortably. “Nobody’s paying me, or blackmailing me this time around—why do _I_ have to be the one to keep an eye on him?”

“Because Millie and I have to go to September for work.” Millie nods rapidly as Meryl speaks, probably happy to let Meryl do the talking. Vash knows she has a hard time standing up for herself unless it’s a issue she takes very seriously. “We’ll be gone for two weeks—all we’re asking is for you to go with Vash, make sure he gets there in one piece, and then come back.”

“Yeah, well, easier said than done,” grumbles Wolfwood. “Look, here’s an idea—why don’t we trade, huh?” He steps over to Millie, wrapping an arm around her waist and grinning as she giggles. “Meryl, you get to have fun with your best friend over there, and Millie and I can spend some quality time discussing… insurance policies!” Vash winces as Wolfwood starts chuckling, too—he’s not sure why, since public displays of affection don’t normally make him so uncomfortable. Then again, it’s more Wolfwood being _nice_ to somebody that makes his skin crawl. Seriously: who’s he trying to fool with that shtick? Well, Millie, and it’s working, but watching Wolfwood flirt still creeps Vash out. “We’ll go to September, I’ll help you schmooze some rich tycoon, get him to invest some big bucks… Hell, I’ll even put on a dress and a wig if I have to.”

“Nice try, but we already decided who’s going with Vash,” announces Millie, wriggling so that Wolfwood will let her go. Eventually, after a pause, he does. “It has to be you.”

“Does it have to be me?” Wolfwood kicks at sand like a pouty little kid. “Does it have to be anyone, really? I mean maybe, just _maybe…”_ Wolfwood trails off, then declares, “Needlenoggin will be fine on his own.”

“Doubtful.” After saying that, Meryl takes a moment to cross her arms sternly.

Then there’s a pause, and Vash swallows as they all turn to look at him—Meryl with concern on her face, Millie with genuine confusion, and Wolfwood with a strained expression that tells Vash he doesn’t believe a word of his own argument. “… I mean, I _could_ be.”

“Hey! Actually, speaking of orphans, it’s about time I checked up on mine!” Laughing, Wolfwood darts over to Vash, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud! Looks like I can’t keep you company after all. Too bad, real sad, but listen… You’ll be in my thoughts. Hell—I’ll even pray for you! No fee required.”

“Hey, but…” Millie furrows her brow, and her face lights up as she seems to realize something. “Isn’t your old church on the way to September?”

“How convenient,” says Meryl dryly.

Millie nods thoughtfully, then smiles even wider. “Oh! I know! How about Meryl and I stop by to check on the kids and save you the trip?”

“Do I get any say in this?” Vash pipes up hopefully.

“Maybe in your dreams,” says Meryl. She reaches over and hits Wolfwood lightly on the arm. “Look—we’re not trying to pick on you, alright? It just makes sense. You’re the most competent gunman, you have a flexible ‘work’ schedule, and you’ve been learning about Vash since you were a kid! And Vash—“ Meryl sighs, then stomps over to him. It’s funny; even though she’s barely five feet tall, the way she comes at him makes Vash want to cower, especially when she reaches out her arms. But then, before he really gets what’s happening, she’s pulled him into a hug. “We just want to make sure you’re safe. I know you can handle pretty much anything, but I—well, _we_ would feel better if Wolfwood went with you.”

“What are friends for, right?” asks Millie. Vash wraps his arms around Meryl lightly, watching as Millie cups Wolfwood’s face with one hand before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry! We’ll all be back home before you know it.”

Meryl makes an irritated noise, and Vash glances down, watching as she props her chin against his chest and pouts up at him. “Don’t do anything stupid, Vash.”

“Hey! It’s me we’re talking about.” Vash smiles down at her, trying to sound genuine when he insists, “I’ll be fine.”

Meryl groans, letting him go and stepping away so she can knead at her temple with a couple fingers. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Come on, Needlenoggin.” Wolfwood takes the bag Millie packed him with a sour look on his face, but his scowl softens when Millie gives him another kiss—this time on the lips. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vash smirks, then gives a dramatic, twirling gesture with one hand, bowing towards Wolfwood. “Onward, bodyguard! And no more of that _lip_. Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax etcetera does _not_ pay you for your opinions!”

Wolfwood punches Vash on the arm, but it’s pretty half-hearted. “Yeah, well, if somebody actually was paying me, this wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve got…” Vash fishes around in his pockets, then pulls out the contents. “Twenty double-dollars and half of a packet of gum.”

Wolfwood gives him a dirty look. “ _How_ have you managed to stay alive this long?”

“A miracle,” answers Meryl flatly. Heaving a sigh, she thinks for a second, then offers, “Think of it like this, Wolfwood—even if Bernadelli can’t be held responsible for Vash’s actions, you’d still be doing our company—and, by extension, _us—_ a pretty big favor by looking out for him. The fewer disasters related to the humanoid typhoon, the better. Plus, less paperwork for us to deal with.”

“That’s right!” Millie pipes up. “We’d both really appreciate it.”

Sidling up to Wolfwood, Vash smirks and whispers, “You’d be a real cold-hearted bastard if you couldn’t even do your _girlfriend_ one little favor.” Never mind the fact that Wolfwood is Vash’s friend, too, and even though Vash doesn’t need to be babysat, it stings that Wolfwood can’t be bothered to hang around Vash on his own now that Knives isn’t breathing down his neck.

“You’ve got no shame,” growls Wolfwood. Shaking his head, he leans forward and pats Millie lightly on the head. “Ehh. You talked me into it.” Sighing, he steps back and gives Millie a miserable look. “See you in half a month, kiddo.”

Millie reaches out and gives his hand a quick squeeze, then trots over the Meryl, waving enthusiastically. “You two have fun!”

“Millie, you’re focusing on the wrong thing!” scolds Meryl. As both girls start walking away, she turns over her shoulder to shout, “I mean it, Vash! Stay out of trouble, even if it _kills you!”_

“Don’t get my hopes up.” Wolfwood waves at them as they start up the hill towards their Tomases, and both he and Vash stay and watch as the girls mount the birds and ride them off over the horizon.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Vash pipes up. “You’re not really gonna make me go all the way to Lina’s, are you?”

Wolfwood scoffs. “Like hell, I’m not.” He shoves Vash, forcing him to stumble forward. “I made a promise to my _girlfriend.”_

 

* * *

 

It takes them a week to get there. One long, painful week, where they almost run out of water, have to get a ride from the sketchiest bus driver either of them have ever seen, and get set back a whole day by getting caught in a sandstorm. So, just another, typical journey for the both of them. In a way, Vash is relieved. It’s like nothing’s changed, and if he doesn’t think too hard about the small, annoying ways his body acts these days, he can make believe everything really is the same.

And then, it happens.

The morning before they get into town is when Vash first notices. He and Wolfwood slept like crap, bunkering down in a cave about twenty iles outside of town, and when night fell, it dropped well below freezing. Vash put on about five extra layers too many, and in the morning, woke up drenched in sweat. Trying to cool off, he threw everything—blankets, socks, coat—off, leaving just his pants and undershirt. That’s when he actually took a good look at himself.

His stomach has… bumped out. Just a tiny bit—like he had way too much to eat yesterday, and he’s still bloated from his last meal. But the curve of it starts too high up on his abdomen to be food, and it almost looks like a softened “v” more than some round muffin top. He knows it didn’t happen overnight (probably), but it still leaves him feeling…

Okay, he’s _terrified_. There’s something actually growing inside him, and in who knows how long—maybe a few more months, maybe way sooner—that ‘something’ will have to come out. And now, even though he’s fully dressed again, and he can’t even see the changes underneath his coat, they’re all he can think about.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Needlenoggin?” Wolfwood, of course, picks up on it right away. Vash guesses he isn’t normally this quiet.

“Whuh—What?” Is it hot out here? Well, yeah; it’s a desert, and deserts get hot. Seriously, why can’t he take his mind off this? He’s trying as hard as he can not to think about it: not to think about _anything_ … baby related. But it’s like seeing something beyond disgusting and having to deal with it sitting in the back of your head all day. The harder you try to not to think about it, the more it gets stuck in your brain. “Nothing! I’m…”

Glancing down at his stomach before he can stop himself, Vash has to shove down a wave of nausea when he sees just how far it pushes out. The last thing he needs is to start throwing up on top of everything else. Pretty soon, he won’t even be able to see his feet! How’s he supposed to do anything when that happens?  Not to mention when he can actually feel something _moving_ inside him. Lately, he thinks he feels these weird tingles in his abdomen, but for all he knows, he’s imagining it. But the thought of something tossing and turning inside him like a gigantic parasite makes his skin crawl. It’s way too late for him to be realizing this, but now, he knows he’s spent too much time worrying about what happens after he has the kid, and not enough time worrying about how he’s gonna deal with the ‘before.’

“I’m just…  really tired.”

“Well, you can have granny cook you some soup and read you a bedtime story, soon as we get there.” Wolfwood’s trying his best to be a jackass, but even his usual jabs sound tired. Not that Vash is listening too closely; it’s like, every time he closes his eyes, his brain puts this terrifying mental image of himself, with a huge, swollen stomach, blood everywhere as he lies on a bed, screaming his head off—

“GUH. Y-You…” Crap! What did Wolfwood even say? Oh, right: something sarcastic. “Would it kill you to be a little more sensitive?”  

“You kidding?” Wolfwood chuckles, slapping Vash on the back. “I don’t think I’ve ever babied anybody as much as I baby you.”

“Can you not… use that word?” Making a gulping noise, Vash squints up at the suns and starts walking faster.

“Which one?” Vash doesn’t have to look behind him to know Wolfwood’s smirking like an asshole. “‘Baby’ or ‘kidding’?”

Shaking his head, Vash makes a small noise of complaint. “Either, I guess.”

“Why? Does it bother you or something?” He hears brisk footsteps, and Wolfwood catches up with him. The other man leans way forward as he walks, studying Vash and rubbing his chin before saying, “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, you have a point. Baby’s not really an accurate word. How about...” The guy’s holding back laughter when he suggests, “Sapling?”

“How about I puke all over you?” Vash asks, then winces and clamps a hand over his mouth. Okay—that threat ended up being more sincere than he would’ve liked. At least it works: Wolfwood takes one look at his face and skitters away to a safe distance.

“Now that’s just overkill.” Grumbling, Wolfwood stays behind for a while, and a weird feeling blooms in Vash’s gut when he spots the outlines of buildings in the distance. He can’t tell if he’s nervous, excited, or still about to throw up. But hey—maybe it’ll be okay! They don’t have to tell Lina and Grams everything, right? All they really need to know is that Vash is… _sick_ , and he needs to hide out for a while. He’ll just… treat it like a vacation.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is it, right?” Wolfwood skirts around the fence and stomps up the dusty lawn, rapping his fingers on the door. “Hey! Grandma! Got a little care package for you.”

The door creaks open just as Vash steps up on the porch and gets throttled to the ground. “ _Oof!”_

“Eriks!” Lina’s burying her face in his— _ow!_ —still tender chest, her arms tight around him as they lie together on the dirt. “I never thought I’d see you again…”

“Hey, hey!” Before Vash can stop him, Wolfwood’s pulling Lina back on her feet by the scruff of her shirt. “Enough with the roughhousing. This moron’s in a delicate condition.”

“Oh, sorry.” Lina looks so guilty, it practically hurts. She bends down to take his hand and pull him up, dusting his coat off timidly. “Did you get shot again? Was it bad?”

“Lina?” Grams hurries down the porch steps towards them, wiping her hands on her apron before putting them on her hips. “My, my. Been a while, hasn’t it, Eriks?”

“You know his real name is Vash, right?” Wolfwood casually rests an arm on Vash’s shoulder as soon as he’s standing again, shoving him forward.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a nickname, Mr. Preacher?” Scoffing, Grams beckons for them to follow her inside. “He’ll always be Eriks to us.”

Lina circles them like an excited puppy, then latches onto Vash’s arm happily as they step through the front door. “So—what brings you guys back here?” It hits Vash that she’s at least an inch or two taller than he remembers. And stronger! She tugs him along without any trouble at all.

“I know it must be something more important than just a friendly visit.” Grams points to the dining table and gestures for them to sit down. “If you were the vacationing, you’d have dropped by more often.”

“Jeeze, Grams!” Chuckling, Vash shrugs casually, trying to downplay how he suddenly feels like a huge jerk. “Already hitting me with the guilt trip, huh?”

“Not like you don’t deserve it.” Sliding a cigarette out of his pocket, Wolfwood asks, “Hey, am I allowed to smoke in here?” Grams gives him a dirty look, but doesn’t say no, so Wolfwood lights it anyway. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one of his friends to get screwed over by his sense of time. He’s on Vash years—a couple months feel like a few hours to him.”

“They do not!” And hey—shouldn’t Vash be speaking for himself here?

Wolfwood ignores him. “You’re right about one thing, though—this isn’t just a courtesy call.” After taking a deep drag, he ashes the cigarette out the open window.  “Me and a few of his friends have decided ‘Eriks’ is better off giving the peaceful, quiet life another shot. For a few months, anyway.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Grams starts setting out some saucers and cups, arranging them thoughtfully. “And why the hell did you pick this town? Just because those bandits are gone, it doesn’t mean it’s peaceful. Of course, we’re happy to have him, but…” She grabs some sugar and creamer from the kitchen and sets them down, too. “Surely you know as well as I do that trouble always seems to find Eriks.”

Pausing, Wolfwood studies Grams. “Y’know, if you don’t want me to dump him on you, you can just say so.”

Vash bristles. “Wolfwood!”

Grams gives him the glare of the century before announcing, “I’ll make that tea now.”

Lina finally drops into one of the chairs, and Vash follows suit. Wolfwood stays nearby and leans against the wall, holding his cigarette out the window between puffs. “Are you really going to stay with us again?”

Vash manages a real smile. “If you’ll let me.”

“Of course!” But, after a second, Lina looks unhappy. “Did… something really bad happen to you again? Is that why you came back?”

“That depends on your definition of bad,” Wolfwood supplies.

“It’s not bad! It’s just—It’s kind of…” Swallowing, Vash hangs his head. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I hope you haven’t gotten into even more trouble,” Grams grouses as she comes out of the kitchen, setting down a pot of tea. “That bounty of yours was more than enough.” Lina pours some for herself immediately, adding two heaping spoonfuls of sugar, and Grams simply adds a touch of honey to her cup. Vash figures he should pour some—it’d probably help settle his stomach—but he feels so awkward right now, it’s like he can barely move!

“Oh, he has.” Yeah, Wolfwood is enjoying this way too much. Just as Vash lifts his head, looking at the guy in a way that simply _begs_ him not to come right out and say it, Wolfwood announces, “He’s pregnant.”

Lina’s spoon drops with a little clatter. “ _Huh!?”_

Lifting a hand up like he’s calming an angry mob instead of a young girl and a grandmother, Wolfwood explains, “I know, I know—we’ve both seen him strip naked, so you know just as well as I do that he seems like a normal, horrifically scarred human man. But he’s not.”

“Uh.” Vash has no idea what to say, but as embarrassing as it is, he thinks he’d rather let Wolfwood do the talking. After all, if he were more comfortable having conversations about the hard stuff, he probably wouldn’t have waited so long to tell Meryl the first thing about his past. In the end, he just nods, staring down at his empty cup.

“I won’t go into too much detail—hell, it doesn’t really matter if you believe me or not. You’re gonna see proof eventually. And hey, in the meantime, if it helps, you can just pretend he’s got some sort of life-threatening illness forcing him to go under house arrest.” Walking over to the table again, Wolfwood takes a seat and, ignoring grandma’s glare, snuffs the cigarette out in his empty cup. “But either way, he needs to lay low for a while. Go back to being Eriks.” Wolfwood’s face twitches, and then he breaks out in a grin. “Or _Erika.”_

Vash kicks him from under the table.

Both Lina and Grandma are staring at Wolfwood like they’re waiting for him to say he was just kidding, and Vash knows he probably ought to say something, but he has no idea what that something should be! Wolfwood’s being a huge asshole about it, but he’s also just… stating the facts. And, no matter how embarrassingly Wolfwood phrases it, it’s still less humiliating than having to say it himself. Finally, he works around the knot in his throat and figures out what he wants to say. “I know this is _really_ strange, and it’s a lot to ask, but…  do you think—would you ever let me stay here after all the trouble I caused you?”

Grandma’s face softens a little. “You were no trouble at all. And you saved my Lina more times than I can count.”

Lina blushes a little, ducking her head. “Grandma…”

“We’d be happy to have you,” the old woman continues. “I’ll admit, it’s a… strange situation, but I always had my suspicions that something was different about you. No human being could survive _half_ the injuries you’re living with, let alone be thriving.” Well, at least she’s not in shell-shock.

“This is gonna be great!” Reaching out over the table, Lina pats Vash’s hand reassuringly. “Everybody in town really likes you, Eriks, so… everybody can pitch in and help take care of you.”

Vash has to bite his tongue to stop himself from grousing about how he can take care of himself, and he _has_ been doing that, for over a century, but  he’d have to be some kind of monster not to appreciate what Lina and Grams are doing for him here! “… Thank you.” Throwing on a half-hearted smile, he leans back and laughs. “I really appreciate it, y’know?”

“Great.” Wolfwood laughs, too, scratching a fingernail against the burn mark on his teacup. “You have no idea what a relief all this is! The guy can’t go five minutes without somebody trying to put a hit out on him. It’s real tiring, trying to keep him out of trouble, but considering how long he lasted out here with you the two of you, I figure he must listen to you better.”

“Perhaps he does.” Grandma winks at Vash and Vash groans under his breath. Seriously? Now she’s babying him, too. “So, Mr. Preacher—I feel as though I have to ask. Given your… intimate knowledge with the situation, and your connection to Eriks…” Suddenly, she goes quiet, looking less certain than Vash can ever remember seeing her. It’s like she can’t decide how to put whatever she’s trying to say, and when she actually comes out and says it, Vash understands why she hesitated. “… Could it be that you had something to do with this?”

Wolfwood hacks violently, hunching over the table as Vash laughs into his hand. Sure, that was a blow to his pride, too, but he’s almost getting numb to _that_ feeling. “Christ, Granny! You trying to give me a heart attack?” Wincing, he wipes his mouth with a frilly, lacy napkin. “No, he did this to himself. Some _plant_ thing.”

Vash sees both Lina and Grandma’s faces light up with curiosity, but before either of them can start to pry, Wolfwood interrupts.

“Well—“ Vash starts as the other man jumps up from the table. “I should really be on my way. Thanks for everything you’re doing here—seriously!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re leaving already.” Grams sounds completely casual, which is strange, because Vash feels like his heart’s about to burn its way through his ribcage. “Stay for dinner, why don’t you?” Seriously? Wolfwood’s actually gonna leave him to deal with this all alone? Sure, Vash knew he wasn’t going to stay forever, but he figured he’d have a few days to get settled before his only friend out here completely abandoned him. Hell, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s just being selfish, expecting Wolfwood to always be there to help Vash deal with the crazy stuff he’s constantly getting caught up in.

“Ehh…” The next second seems to last three times longer than it should. Vash’s heart is in his throat, and even though he feels like a helpless kid, getting this emotional over being left ‘alone’, he can’t seem to stop himself from feeling that way. “Yeah. Alright. Couldn’t hurt to fill up before I head out.”

“Perfect.” Grams beams, getting up and gathering all their cups and saucers before giving Lina a small nudge on the shoulder. Lina jumps, then remembers that she’s apparently supposed to help, following her grandmother into the kitchen with an armful of dishes.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Vash gets up, giving Wolfwood a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine!”

“That’s debatable,” Wolfwood huffs. “Besides, I’m only staying for tonight, and then I’ll be out of that collection of broomstick bristles you call hair.” He pulls another cigarette out of his pocket, moving to head outside again. Vash figures he must be stressed—Wolfwood always smokes like the world’s ending, but even he normally waits more than two minutes between lighting the next one up. “And stop trying to make me feel bad for you.”

“Huh?” Vash cocks his head in confusion.

Wolfwood leers, pointing at his mouth. It takes Vash a second, but he understands what Wolfwood means eventually. Right. His ‘fake smile.’

Studying him, Wolfwood pauses with a hand on the door frame. “You’ll be fine, you know.”

“Yeah.” Vash still feels queasy, and he wonders if it’s just the same old symptoms, or because he feels completely let down. “I know.”


End file.
